


you deserve (everything good)

by theantepenultimateriddle



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, God I love Minlace, JUST, minlace, they fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 06:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11708508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theantepenultimateriddle/pseuds/theantepenultimateriddle
Summary: She's so beautiful to you.





	you deserve (everything good)

When you come home, Minkowski is waiting for you on the couch, reading a book. You shut the door behind yourself and walk over to sit next to her, flopping down on the cushions with a theatrical groan. Minkowski shuts her book and looks at you, turning her body to face you. “Long day?” she asks, and you nod.

“You have no idea.” The meeting with your bosses had lasted hours, and by the end of it your skin was crawling with boredom and restlessness. You shift uncomfortably in your work suit, then get up and start to loosen your tie. “God, this thing is choking me.”

You struggle with the knot for a minute, getting more and more frustrated as you do, and Minkowski watches with an amused expression on her face. Finally she gets up and puts her hands over yours, pushing them away. “Here, let me.” She expertly unknots the tie from around your throat, and when she’s done her hands linger on the strip of fabric still looped around the back of your neck. Her brown eyes are warm and intense, and your breath catches in your throat as she winds the ends of your tie around her hands. You can feel your heart speeding up in anticipation, because Minkowski only ever looks like this before-

She pulls on the ends of the tie, yanking you forwards into a kiss that makes every bit of tension and exhaustion melt from your body in an instant. They’re immediately replaced by a flood of desire, and you wrap your arms tight around her, pulling her body flush against yours. You run your hands up and down over her back, along her shoulders, enjoying touching her. She’s wearing a loose t-shirt, and you slide your hands under the hem, touching her smooth, bare skin, your hands on her hips as she kisses you. Her lips are cold at first- Minkowski’s blood runs colder than yours does, almost all the time- but she soon warms up against you. Her mouth is pliable and soft, her lips just a little chapped, and you lick at them, feeling her hands tighten around your tie. Minkowski makes a noise in her throat, almost a whimper in your mouth, and her breath is hot and her tongue is wet and goddamn do you fucking love her, your girlfriend, your wonderful girlfriend.

You move your hands around to her chest and push her back gently. Minkowski gets the message and steps back, and you follow her, all the way back to the wall of your living room. Then you pull back and look her in the eye. “Let go,” you whisper, and she does, releasing your tie. You move your hands down her arms to her wrists, holding them gently. Then you pin them to the wall on either side of her, holding her down in front of you like a butterfly on cardboard. She doesn’t resist. Minkowski looks at you and there’s fire in her eyes, her chest rising and falling in quick little pants. You step back just far enough to look at her, and she’s beautiful with her dark hair loose and fine around her shoulders, her form muscular and strong under her baggy sweatpants and the dark shirt that she looks so natural in. “You’re so pretty right now,” you say, your voice low and soft. “You’re so pretty all the time, but even more like this. You look so nice when you’re mine.”

“I’m always yours,” she says, and fuck, fuck fuck fuck you’re on fire. You press against her, kissing her with soft little touches, then deeper. Minkowski kisses back, and you can feel her moving underneath you, adjusting her body to try and find some sort of stimulation. So you help. You move your knee between Minkowski’s legs, and she grinds against it, rubbing herself against you almost gratefully. She makes a small, needy noise, and yes, that’s good.

Making Minkowski want you is what you live for.

She pulls back this time, leaning her head against the wall and breathing heavily, her throat bared to you like a vulnerability. Like an offering. For almost as long as you’ve known her, Minkowski has walked with her chin down, covering her neck like she expects people to go for her throat, rip out her vitals without warning. As if everyone she sees is a second away from leaping for her jugular. It took her a very long time to stop, even once you returned to earth, and you still love it when she does this, a gesture of trust and utter comfort you know she’s unaware of making. You lean down and press your lips and feel her shudder and strain against your hands, trying to lean in further. Carefully you move up, trail your tongue along her jaw, and she gasps, her hands balling into fists. “Fuck,” she says, “Lovelace-”

“Lovelace what, exactly?” you ask against her neck, feeling the vibrations of your own voice in the shivers of your body.

“I-” she cuts herself off, and you kiss her once more and then latch back onto her throat. You suck on her skin, taste the salt of her sweat, and listen to her break down. “Oh, god,” she gasps, and you head her voice shake. “Lovelace, please, just do it already-”

You detach yourself from her and lick at the mark you made on her skin, dark purple like a bruise. “You need me? You want me?”

“Yes, god, yes.” She’s rubbing herself against you faster now, getting more desperate, and you pull back and smile at her.

“Okay,” you say. “But for that…” You release her arms, letting her go, and take a step back to look at her. “Go to the couch,” you say, and she does, walking like she’s in a dream, dazed. You watch her move, and then she sits down on the couch and you follow her, walking over and kneeling on the ground in front of her. Slowly, very slowly, you tuck your hands into the sides of Minkowski’s sweatpants and slide them off. Then you laugh, because underneath she’s wearing the underwear you bought her as a gag for her birthday- plain black panties with the days of the week printed on them in white text. She’s even wearing the appropriate ones for today, Tuesday.

Minkowski looks down at you and narrows her eyes. “Is something funny?” Her voice is still slightly breathy, and you smile and shake your head.

“Not at all, babe. But,” you pause and kiss the skin on the inside of one of her thighs before continuing, “you have got to be the only person in the entire world who wears days of the week underwear accurately.”

“Oh?” she asks, absent-minded, reaching down and stroking your hair. “Is that a problem?”

“Absolutely the hell not. In fact,” you say, moving your hand up and hooking a thumb into the hem of her underwear, “I love it.” Then you pull them down.

Minkowski hisses through her teeth when they come off and presses forwards onto you, but you’re already there to meet her, sliding your tongue into her slick cleft, tasting her in your mouth like a delicacy. You tease your tongue around her folds, licking through her wetness, and she makes little noises, putty under your hands. Minkowski wraps her legs around you, pulling you closer, and you hum in your throat. Her hands tighten in your hair. “Isabel, _Captain_ -” and damn it’s hot when she appeals to your rank, when she surrenders to you. You move your hands, spreading your fingers in a V around her, holding Minkowski open as you eat her out. She lifts her hips against you, urging you deeper inside her, and deeper you go. You know her by know, you know all the little buttons to push to make her scream, to make her cry out for you. And Minkowski doesn’t disappoint. She’s loud and begging, calling for more at the top of her lungs, and you could easily lose yourself in this time, in this moment.

When you and Minkowski first started dating, you had been surprised at how vocal she was. But she’s been through so much, just like you. Doesn’t she deserve an excuse to scream? You’re a safe person for her, just like she is for you.

Minkowski’s cries rise to a peak as you slip a finger into her, crook it against her inner wall. “C’mon, babe, c’mon,” you say under your breath, then latch on and suck on her clit, hard, and Minkowski’s heels slam down on your shoulder blades hard enough to bruise. She arches her back against you, strained taunt, and you keep going, letting her ride it out. When you’re done, when she’s done, slack and panting and totally relaxed on the couch, you haul yourself back up on top of her and kiss her. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“Me too,” she says, sounding dreamy. She shakes her head as if to clear it, then looks at you. “Want me to return the favor?”

You grin at her, then start unbuttoning your shirt. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Minkowski moves forwards to help, her capable fingers undoing you button by button as you shrug your suit jacket off, your undone tie finally fluttering to the ground. Your shirt is next, and then Minkowski reaches around your back and undoes your bra, one-handed. Then you get to work, unzipping your pants. She inhales deeply when she sees the underwear you’re wearing- the black lace that you know she likes. You’d always been intending to let her take them off you, and she doesn’t disappoint. She pulls them off, then spends a moment just looking at you in silence, an expression on her face like she’s drinking you in, water in a desert. You move in response, positioning yourself so that all of you is visible, spreading your legs and arching your back slightly in display. You know she likes that, likes looking at you. You can’t blame her- you like it, too. It reminds you that your body is not shameful, even if it’s not human.

Minkowski reaches a hand down towards your crotch and runs her thumb gently through your folds, in circles around your clit. “You sure did get excited.”

You laugh breathlessly. “You’re one to talk.” She smirks at you, teasing her fingers around your entrance, the soft pads of them rubbing against you. Your mind unfocuses a little, and you think that if she pressed harder she’d leave her fingerprints on you, the unique whorls etched into you like you’re made of clay. Slowly, she moves until she’s on top of you, her legs positioned on either side of your body. She wraps them around your waist and reaches one hand up to your breasts, touching them tenderly, lovingly. She traces lines around your areolas, smooths her fingers over your nipples, and almost without warning slips a finger deep into you. Your body tightens, and you gasp. “Fuck, yes, just like that, Minkowski-”

She stops moving, her fingers freezing in place, and leans down to whisper in your ear. Her breath is hot and wet on your skin. “Commander Minkowski to you.”

You had forgotten that she likes that just as much as you do, and you snort. “ _Lieutenant_ Commander Minkowski, sir,” you say in your politest voice, “will you please continue fucking me raw?”

“I just might,” says Minkowski, and she kisses you as she slides another finger into you, opening you up, moving them in and out in time to the rhythm of your hips against her. She moves her other hand down and strokes the hood of your clit, and you exhale sharply into her mouth before enfolding her in your arms and pulling her closer.

Minkowski hits a spot inside you, and you hiss, letting go of her as quickly as you had grabbed her. “God _damn_ , that is good. I fucking-” She smiles and does it again, and you break off into a groan. “Love it when you do that,” you finish, your voice a hoarse whisper. “Renee, Commander, whatever, just keep going.” And she does, and you lift your hips up against her, and you run your hands over her body on top of you, down to her bare ass. Minkowski falters, inhaling sharply, and you laugh, but she quickly moves back into the rhythm. Her movements coincide with the beat of your heart, both getting faster by the second.

You tip your head back, exposing your throat to her, and the craving in your stomach rises to a crescendo and then you fall over the edge. Your body goes still and stiff, your back arched against her like you’ve been shocked with a live wire. Minkowski is against you, her warmth on your waist, her hands inside you. For a brief, blissful moment, you let go, and your mind is silent. Your body convulses, and everything relaxes, all your muscles down to your core. Then Minkowski removes her hands, and the two of you just lay there for a minute, breathing together, you naked and her in nothing but a shirt and a bra.

Minkowski beams at you in satisfied delight, and you think this is what your heaven is.


End file.
